


Care and Feeding

by SiriuslyPeeved



Series: Care and Feeding Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season 13 (Supernatural), Angst, Baby Jack - Freeform, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Fluff, Fluff in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Grieving Dean Winchester, M/M, Other, POV Sam Winchester, Pining Dean Winchester, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-08-20 23:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20236282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiriuslyPeeved/pseuds/SiriuslyPeeved
Summary: Alternate universe starting from the end of Season 12, Episode 23. What if Jack chose not to become a young adult right away? How would that change his interactions with the Winchesters? Background Dean/Castiel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first foray into writing for the SPN fandom, though I have been a part of it for many years. I have a bad habit of writing the first chapter of a story and then wandering away, (sorry to all my Potterverse readers!) so I decided to finish this entire story before posting. I do hope that being in full tilt writing mode will help me finish Rowan and Phoenix.
> 
> I will post updates daily, more or less. (I was going to do twice a week but I got too impatient. :) ) Subscribe to be notified if you like the story. There are 10 chapters in all.
> 
> The Dean/Cas is in the background. Tags will be added as the story goes on. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Apologies for any wonkiness, I wrote this story on my phone in Google Docs and I have not yet bribed a beta reader enough to look at it for me.

An explosion of color and sound sent Sam running upstairs. By the time he reached the top floor, the bedroom was silent and dark. A shapeless lump lay on the bed by Kelly’s leg, halfway rolled-up in the disheveled covers. Sam stepped closer and reached out for the wet and stained comforter. A small arm appeared, its fist clenched tight.

“Holy Christ. Dean!”

The yell was enough to wake the baby. As Sam drew the covers away, the little face screwed up on itself and its mouth opened on a howl. Sam stuffed his gun in his waistband (remembering to safety it by some miracle) and pulled the blanket down some more. The baby squealed, its arms flapping out to the sides. “Dean, get up here now!”

Sam sank slowly to his knees at the foot of the bed. Dean’s clomping steps up the stairs brought him back to reality. “Jesus. That’s a baby.”

Sam pulled the blanket down some more, and the baby drew its legs up in a defensive curl. “It’s a boy,” Sam said unhelpfully.

“I can see that, Sherlock. It looks cold. Pick it up.”

The baby was covered in a bloody, waxy smear. Sam kind of didn’t want to touch it, but it shivered and its cries grew louder.

“Dean —“ said Sam, noticing something wrong. A ropy cord ran from the baby’s rounded stomach toward Kelly’s body. “It’s got something coming out of its stomach.”

“Umbilical cord. Cut it off and tie it.”

Sam scoffed. “With what, dumbass? My demon knife?”

Dean grunted and bent down. He took an ordinary knife out of his sock and handed it to Sam. Then he resumed his firing stance. “Try that. But maybe we do want the demon knife.”

Lucifer’s baby. A powerful nephilim, if Cas was right. (Cas, still out there on the ground with his wing prints burned into the sand. Sam couldn’t even think about it.)

“Do you think we should...” Sam’s breath caught in his throat. Lucifer had just fallen through the crack in the universe with their mom. If Lucifer came back — 

The baby’s cries grew shriller, maybe angrier. Its eyes glowed a bright yellow. It gnawed on its fist with toothless gums and a sudden gust of wind blew the curtains.

“It’s a baby, Sam. Cut the damn cord.” Sam went along with it since that was easier than fighting. He tied a knot quickly, though only a little blood oozed out. “Pick it up.”

“Pick it up?” Sam repeated dumbly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yes, genius. Pick it up.”

“Okay baby,” said Sam in an uncertain voice, “c’mere.” He took the infant gingerly in both hands, remembering almost too late that you had to hold a baby’s head up. He held the baby against his jacket. It turned its head and started to root around, snuffling. Then a sudden warmth flooded over the crook of his elbow. “Jesus!” He gave a shaky laugh.

“What the hell?”

“It pissed on me.” Sam was laughing, but still disgusted.

“Okay, I am never holding it.”

“That’s why they make diapers.”

Dean spoke softly. “Do you think... Kelly got any diapers?”

Sam’s heart ached. He knew that Cas had taken Kelly baby shopping, he’d seen all of the folded-up cardboard downstairs in the kitchen. “You look for diapers, okay? I think you can put the gun down.”

“You sure?”

“Dean, it’s a nephilim and if it wanted us dead, we’d be dead already.”

Dean swore and tucked his gun in his waistband, going into the nursery next door on a diaper hunt. Sam cradled the baby closer as it cried, jiggling it with his arm in an effort to get it to calm down. As he rocked the baby, the lights sputtered and flickered.

“Yahtzee!” Sam heard the sound of a wooden drawer being shoved closed. “Come on in here, it’s all set up for the little monster.”

Sam carried the wet and squirming baby into the darkened nursery, feeling unsteady with every step. On the wall over the crib, Kelly had painted a mural of a huge tree and an alphabet on a rainbow. The baby’s name was painted on apples on the tree. “Jack,” he said, addressing the baby for the first time.

“Lay him down on that table — the one with the pad on it.” Dean stepped closer. “Those look like butt wipes.”

“Here goes nothing,” said Sam nervously, cupping the back of the baby’s head in one of his huge hands and easing him down to the terry-cloth surface. He ripped open the butt wipes with one hand and used them all over the kid. Besides the pee, the kid was still covered in that gross slimy stuff. The butt wipes only took about half of it off, but Sam decided that was good enough.

Sam unfolded the diaper and stared at it. “Um,” he said to Dean, “any help here?”

Dean let go of an exasperated breath and pushed his brother aside. “It is not that damned hard, Sam. Remember Bobby John?” With competence if not tenderness, Dean got the baby diapered in a matter of seconds. “We ought to find it some clothes. Look in these drawers.”

Sam quickly came up with a stretchy one-piece thing with baffling snaps. Too difficult. He settled on a t - shirt with crotch snaps and a pair of tiny sweatpants.

When Jack was dressed, Sam and Dean stood there looking at him. He had almost given up on crying, just letting out some pathetic whimpers from time to time. His eyes drifted closed.

“He can’t sleep there,” Dean hissed in a loud whisper. “He’ll roll off. Put him in the crib.”

As soon as he slid his hands under the baby’s head and butt, his eyes snapped open and he howled even louder than before. The sound of lightning crackled in the room, and glowing yellow waves pulsed in the corners. Dean stuck his fingers in his ears. Jack kept shoving his face into the crook of Sam’s arm, and his little mouth was working.

“Damn it! I just figured it out!” Sam said. “We need to feed him.”

“I’m sure Cas... I mean, I’m sure Kelly bought stuff. It’s probably in the kitchen.”

Sam’s stomach ran cold at the thought of carrying Jack down the stairs. “How about you go look and I’ll sit here with him.” It was a statement, not a question. Sam uneasily settled in the large rocking chair holding a wailing Jack. Hopefully Dean would find formula and a bottle downstairs. If not, somebody was going to have to run to the Rite Aid they had passed on their way into town.

“It’s okay, baby. Um, I mean Jack. My brother is a jerk but he’s looking for some food for you.” Jack held Sam’s finger in a death grip as Sam rocked him, probably harder than a baby should be rocked for comfort’s sake.

Dean took the steps two at a time on the way back up. “Okay, I followed the directions on the can. I hope I got it right.” He handed the bottle to Sam.

Sam held the warm bottle awkwardly to Jack’s mouth. The baby didn’t seem to know what to do with it, but he stopped crying long enough to investigate. Finally, his tiny lips closed around the plastic nipple and he started to suck.

“Oh, thank you God. The silence.” Dean wiggled his fingers in his ears.

“So... I guess we’ve got things to take care of here, so we should stay the night.” Sam didn’t want to talk about hunter’s funerals for Kelly and Cas, but they had to do it.

“I’ll take the couch. When the kid falls asleep, put him in the crib.” Dean left the room, his heavy footfalls echoing down the stairs.

The baby stopped eating and started to grizzle. Belatedly, Sam remembered about burping a kid when you gave him a bottle. He put Jack on his shoulder and gave a few gentle taps. Jack let out a frog-like sound that made Sam laugh in spite of himself.

Rocking the baby in the dark room with only the moonlight shining through the window, Sam was drowsy. He got Jack laid down in his crib without waking him — a minor miracle — and crept to the third bedroom, probably Cas’s judging by its severe neatness. He stripped off his piss-wet shirts and flopped quietly on the bed, struggling with his boot laces until he was able to kick them off.

Sam thought he’d fall asleep right away, but he kept replaying the terrible events of the day. Cas and Mom. Not to mention Kelly. Sam could still see her smiling face as he closed her eyes. Lucifer stabbing Cas, helplessly watching him fall to the ground as the shape of his wings sizzled into the earth. Mom beating the shit out of Lucifer and falling through the portal after him. Even Crowley, who had, against all odds, sacrificed himself for them.

How would they ever get Mom back? They had no clue how to open the portal again. Sam felt his eyes burning. Thinking Mom was dead was easier than imagining her trapped in that hellscape with Lucifer.

Sam lay there in the dark, staring out the window into the moonlight. The baby woke up three hours later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter! I may post faster than my original schedule since the story really is done and I am going to be too impatient to sit on it. Thanks for the kudos! Don’t forget to subscribe!

Jack was crying again. Though the power had come back on in the night, the baby’s distress interfered with it. All of the lights were flashing in an erratic pattern. Sam dragged himself out of bed for the third time, cursing Dean asleep downstairs on the couch. He went down to the kitchen to fix a bottle, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Hey.” Sam jumped. Dean was sitting at the kitchen table with a bottle of Jack and a nearly empty glass. Sam should have known that Dean wouldn’t be sleeping. 

Dean rubbed his face with one hand. “How’s the little squirt?”

“Well, awake again, as you can hear.”

Dean let out a hoarse laugh. “Damn, I never knew how much work they were. Bobby John would at least sleep for five or six hours.”

Sam rolled his eyes. The kitchen was growing light. Morning sun reflected off the lake. Cas had picked a nice spot. 

At the thought of Cas, Sam’s stomach twisted in on itself. It was unbelievable that the angel was gone, really gone this time. If he was grieving, Dean had to feel a hundred times worse, but he was dealing with his emotions in the usual way. Dean tipped the last of his glass up to his mouth.

“Have you slept at all?” Dean shrugged. “You should get a couple hours.”

“We need to take care of things, Sammy.” Their eyes met. “Feed that baby and put him back to bed and we’ll get moving.”

Jack went down easy this time. His diaper was squishy, but Sam didn’t want to wake him up again. He figured the kid could wait a while for a diaper. He backed out of the room and went downstairs to find his brother.

Dean was outside standing by Cas’s body. He had managed to lay their friend out flat on the sand, but he hadn’t gotten any further than that. “I can help you,” said Sam.

“I can do it.” Dean lifted Cas carefully. Sam held the door for him as he brought Cas in the house. Dean laid Cas on the kitchen table, bearing his dead weight with a grunt.

Sam stood awkwardly nearby. He wanted to comfort Dean, he wanted to say something helpful, but he knew there was nothing he could say. He knew there was something between his brother and Cas, something that may not have seen the light of day. It was too hard to talk about. He sighed and went to get the axes from the back of the Impala.

Dean was still standing over Cas when Sam returned. His face was expressionless, though his eyes were red and haunted. “C’mon. Let’s go do this before the kid wakes up.”

Working together, they managed to get the pyre built before they heard Jack upstairs. “Get him dressed and bring him downstairs,” Dean said. He hadn’t spoken in a while, and his voice was rough. “I saw a car seat in the living room.”

Sam found an unhappy Jack when he jogged to the top of the stairs. His diaper definitely needed attention. Sam gingerly laid the crying baby down on the changing table and took off the little sweatpants. He unsnapped the T-shirt and pulled it up around the diaper.

When he got the diaper open, there was gross black poop inside it. Fantastic. Sam wiped the baby to the best of his abilities and dressed him again. “I’ll bring you downstairs this time,” he said, “Jesus, I hope I don’t drop you.”

The sleep-deprived part of his brain wondered if he could even drop the nephilim or if the kid would float. Better not to find out the hard way. He picked his way down the stairs very slowly, holding the kid tight. He found the car seat in the kitchen and placed the tiny boy in it. He figured he would do up the buckles just in case.

As Sam mixed the bottle, he saw Dean outside, kneeling by the wing prints burned in the sand. Sam’s throat closed up. The worst part was that there was nothing he could do for his brother. He knew that if he acknowledged Dean’s depth of feeling for Cas, Dean would just go all defensive and never talk to him about Cas again. It was better to wait until Dean brought it up, if ever.

Sam finished making the bottle and lifted the fussing kid out of the car seat. He took the baby to the couch and settled down against a cushion. The baby eagerly took the bottle, and Sam relaxed for a minute.

What were they going to do with a baby? Bring him home to the bunker, Sam decided. He imagined a toddler running down those long tiled hallways, and he had to smile.

The bunker was not the best place for a kid — Sam would have to go around and put a lot of dangerous shit in storage. The baby could sleep in Sam’s room for a while until he got big enough to sleep in his own room. They had plenty of empty rooms to choose from.

Sam burped Jack and was unpleasantly surprised by a stream of warm vomit running down the back of his shoulder. “Damn it!”

Dean came into the living room after washing his hands. “Everything okay in here?”

“Just bodily fluids again.”

Dean didn’t laugh at him like he normally would. “C’mon outside, we gotta get this over with.”

Sam held the baby as he watched the pyres burn. Jack lay quietly in his arms, staring up at his face. A strange sort of understanding passed between Sam and Jack, and Sam held him a little closer.

During the hours the pyre took to burn, Sam had to leave from time to time to change and feed Jack. Every time he left, he came back to the same sight: Dean staring stoically into the fire.

Finally, the pyre was burnt out. The embers glowed bright orange in the charcoal and then faded to nothing. Dean still hadn’t said a word.

“I’m gonna go figure out something to eat. You want something?” Dean shook his head no. Sam went inside and lay the baby in his car seat again while he went through the fridge. 

Cas had grocery shopped for Kelly, and the refrigerator was full of healthy food. Sam decided on chicken and mushrooms. Sometimes sautéed mushrooms could convince Dean to try something as long as they had enough butter on them. Dean was a better cook than Sam, but his food tended toward Triple D-worthy creations.

Dean came in as Sam was finishing the sauce. His eyes were hollow. Sam decided to treat him normally, knowing that any expression of sympathy would just make his brother angry.

“Sit down,” Sam said. “Try this.” He brought Dean a spoon with the sauce.

Dean licked the spoon. “Okay. You got me.”

Sam half-smiled as he dished up the food for Dean. Just as he was getting his own chicken breast on a plate with some mushroom sauce, the baby started up again and the house started to shake. Sam made a sad noise.

“I’ll get him,” said Dean unexpectedly.

“You sure?”

Dean waved a careless hand at him on the way out. Sam kind of wanted to run after him. Already he felt protective toward the little guy, and Dean didn’t have much reason to love the kid.

A few minutes later, Dean came back in the kitchen holding Jack. He looked far more competent holding the baby than Sam felt. “You ought to fix a bunch of bottles ahead of time and keep them in the fridge. Then all you have to do is warm ‘em up.”

“Thanks, Parenting Magazine.” Sam mixed the bottle fairly quickly, having had lots of practice by this time, and he got it warmed up before Jack had really worked himself up to a good cry.

“You’re pretty good at this, you know that?”

Sam snorted. “You haven’t left me much choice, you know.”

Dean raised his hands. “I never said I was daddy material.”

“Cas was going to do this. He was all set to take care of this baby alone. I feel like... I feel like we have to do this for Cas.”

Dean’s eyes scrunched tight during Sam’s little speech as if hearing Cas’s name was a physical blow. “Okay, but he’s your project. I’m not in on this one.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Sam held Jack tightly in one arm. “You do you. I’m going to give this baby a bath. He’s starting to smell.”

Not that Sam had any clue how to give a baby a bath. It seemed dangerous. He finally ended up bundling the kid in towels and laying him on the bathroom floor, sponging the grime off with a washcloth and warm soapy water. He was too chicken to put the baby in the big tub.

“Here,” Dean said, setting a large plastic object on the floor behind him. Another smaller object landed next to it. Sam turned around. It was a baby bathtub and a yellow bottle of what appeared to be “no more tears” baby wash.

“Um, thanks? A little late though, the kid is clean.”

“Don’t bitch about my help or you won’t get any.” Dean started off down the hall.

“When are we going to head home?”

“Tomorrow is good,” he said from halfway down the stairs.

Sam looked at the clean baby lying on the damp towels. The kid had to be getting cold. “Time to dress you. Gonna need a diaper before you pee all over me again.”

The baby let out a tiny laugh. Sam stared down at him. “Did you just laugh?” The baby stayed quiet. Sam wasn’t sure whether his sleep-deprived mind was just making shit up at this point. It was time to try to get some sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Cas and Kelly’s house was in North Cove, Washington, which is south of Seattle. 24-hour drive with a baby, good luck guys!
> 
> I have never been to any of these places, so if I get something wrong, please bear with me. Cheers!

With all of the baby stuff packed into the truck and the back of the Impala, including the crib and rocking chair, it looked like the Clampetts were going on vacation. Dean had called dibs on the truck while Sam and Jack would take the Impala. They had rigged a semi-safe arrangement in the back of the car with the lap belts and the car seat. Even if Jack was maybe an all-powerful being and definitely the son of Lucifer, there was no reason to take chances with him.

As Sam had packed the baby stuff, he had looked sadly at the mural on the wall. He wished he could pack that, too. He took a picture on his phone and hoped to show it to Jack when he was old enough to appreciate it. There was a tablet in Kelly’s room with a flowered memory stick. He packed that as well.

“Two guys and Lucifer’s kid on a road trip,” said Dean, leaning back against Cas’s truck. “What could go wrong?”

A whole lot can fucking go wrong, Sam thought. “Let’s go eight or nine hours today. Probably we won’t make as good a time as usual because of the kid.”

“Let’s rock n’roll.” Dean started the rattling old truck. Sam followed after him, hoping that the baby would sleep for a while.

They headed south to get on I-84. They stopped in Portland to feed and change the baby and stuff down some McDonalds. The highway wound through the forest along the Columbia River, making for a pretty drive but suffering from a distinct lack of places to stop for food and fuel. They made it to Boardman, Oregon before Jack woke up.

Sam called Dean with the increasingly loud sounds coming from the back seat. “We gotta take a pit stop,” he said over the noise.

“Seriously? It’s only been two hours since the last one!”

“Try telling him that!” Sam gripped the wheel tightly with one hand. Jack’s anger made the car hard to control, jerking to the left and right as if it were being blown by a stiff wind.

“Fine. Find a diner or something. I’m hungry.” Dean hung up.

Sam pulled into a down-at-the-heels diner just a little way off the interstate. The place was kind of busy, but it was the only game in town. Sam got in the back seat and pulled Jack out of the car seat. The baby nephilim stopped crying and looked up at Sam with gleaming yellow eyes. Sam pulled a bottle out of the cooler, wishing he had a way to warm it up. “You’re going to have to take it cold for now, dude. Sorry.”

The baby didn’t seem to care about the bottle being cold. He drank it without a fuss, and Sam remembered to put a towel over his shoulder so he didn’t get puked on. He felt like he was getting the hang of this baby thing.

Dean pulled up beside the Impala. Sam could hear a few seconds of Led Zeppelin before he switched off the ignition. Sam laid the baby down on the back seat of the car to change him, spreading out the towel to cover the seat.

“Oh, no, you’re not. Forget it. No dirty diapers in my car!”

“Where else am I supposed to do it?”

“Don’t they have tables in the bathroom?”

“You really think this place has changing tables?”

“Well, you’re gonna have to find out.” Dean patted the Impala’s hood on the way by.

Finally, Sam managed to sneak a diaper change while Dean wasn’t looking — screw Dean — and put the kid in some nicer clothes. He spent a few minutes struggling with the snaps on the sleeper, and he wasn’t quite sure he had them all done up right. The baby was covered up, at least.

He would just have to cross his fingers that Jack was full and happy enough to get through a quick meal without causing the lights to go nuts or creating a psychic windstorm in the restaurant. Admittedly, Sam and Dean had explained worse things to dubious onlookers.

Sam was pretty sure that most people with small babies carried them into restaurants in car seats. He buckled the baby in and headed for the door with an extra bottle.

Dean was sitting in a booth in the back, drinking coffee and holding a menu. As Sam tucked the car seat on the bench beside him, the waitress came up with a coffee cup for Sam.

“Oh my! What a sweet little baby!” She tried to lean over Sam to get a better look, but he cleared his throat and she backed off. “How old?”

“None of your business,” Dean snapped. Great, Dean was going to make sure that somebody spit in their food.

“Looks awful small to be out and about, that’s all.” The waitress took out her pad and pen. “What can I get you?”

After lunch, Sam and Dean sat for a little while finishing their coffee. Jack had woken up, but he just lay there in his car seat looking up at Sam with curious eyes. Sam reached into the car seat and Jack wrapped his fingers around his thumb.

“Gonna take a long time to get home at this rate,” Dean groused.

Sam drank his coffee. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Isn’t there something you can do to help him sleep longer?”

Sam laughed. “Like what? Benadryl? Seriously, Dean. He’s a baby.”

“He’s more than a baby.”

“Even less of a reason to give him Benadryl. I wouldn’t mess with this kid’s system.”

“So I guess driving eight or nine hours today is out?”

Sam sighed and finished the cold dregs of his coffee. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“How long is it going to take to get back to the bunker?”

“You tell me. You know you can drive on ahead, you don’t have to wait for me. Get the kid’s stuff set up.”

Dean appeared to consider this, then he shook his head. “I gotta keep an eye on you somehow.”

Sam smiled halfway and reached out to hold Jack’s foot. The baby’s eyes were partly closed as if he were trying to stay awake. When Sam touched him, he smiled and closed his eyes the rest of the way. Sam drew his hand back carefully. “We should go. Maybe we can get another couple hours in.”

As they headed east on I-84 through Oregon, the road threaded between more mountains and passed by scattered little towns. None of those people knew what had almost happened when Jack was born. Not for the first time, Sam wished he didn’t know either. Wouldn’t it be nice to let somebody else deal with the apocalyptic shit?

Jack slept for an unheard-of four-and-a-half hours before he woke up again. They had just pulled into Boise for gas and a pee break. Sam headed back to the car, rubbing his hands dry on his pant legs.

When he got closer to the car, he saw something surprising. Dean was sitting in the back seat next to Jack, talking quietly. Sam slowed down, trying to catch what his brother was saying, but Dean saw him and quickly got out of the car.

“You ready to go?”

“I was thinking about stopping here for the night.”

“It’s only nine-thirty. The kid seems okay.”

“There are nicer motels here than we’re going to find further down the road.”

“You think a nice motel is going to be any less weirded out by two guys showing up with a newborn baby?”

“No, but it’ll be cleaner.”

“Okay, Mr. Mom. I might go out after you get the kid to bed.”

“Knock yourself out. But first, you have to help me get the baby crap inside.”

Dean laughed. “You don’t need much, dumbass.”

“I need that playpen thing. The pack and play.”

Sam had seen the box as they were packing the truck. It seemed like a safer alternative to the sketchy cribs provided by cheap motels. Kelly really had gone all out preparing for her baby, though she knew she would never hold him. And knowing Cas, he had probably researched every purchase to make sure they were buying the best stuff possible. Sam felt his throat tighten.

“I’ll get the playpen, but the rest of his crap stays in the truck.”

“Deal.”

They found an only slightly dingy motel about five minutes off the highway. Its neon sign was shaped like a salmon with a flashing hook in its mouth.

Dean helped to unearth the playpen in the truck bed and carried it to the room. “Am I done here?”

“Yeah. Don’t wake the kid up when you come in.”

Dean closed the door behind him. Sam sighed heavily and looked down at Jack, who was staring up at him from the car seat. His calm expression made Sam relax.

“What are we going to do with you, buddy?” He unbuckled the baby and lifted him up into his lap. He seemed bigger than he had been a day ago. He sure ate enough for this to be possible.

Holding Jack, it was very difficult to make any kind of connection between him and Lucifer. He was just a baby, human-shaped and helpless. Well, not exactly helpless. Maybe he was more with it than most babies, with his occasional smiles and laughs. Sam hadn’t told Dean about any of that. The more that Jack resembled a supernatural being, the more Dean would mistrust him.

Sam fed, burped, and changed the baby with drooping eyes. He painted wards on the doors and windows and salted them, though he had a bad feeling that anything that could be tracking them wouldn’t be put off by some spray paint. He had just gotten a sleeping Jack down in the pack and play when the door banged open.

Sam leapt to his feet, stumbling in the kicked-off blankets. He reached for his gun on the side table and let the safety off. “What the hell do you want?”

The demon pulled out an angel blade. “Pretty stupid of you to run around with Lucifer’s son. He’s easy to track with that nuclear reactor inside him.”

Sam went for his demon knife instead. In the split second between the angel blade plunging into his chest and the demon knife finding its target, the room suddenly glowed a sizzling, fiery yellow. Sam and the demon were blown back as if by a hurricane. Time seemed to slow down. Sam’s heart pounded unevenly. The demon clapped its hands over its eyes and screamed, burning up in midair.

Sam fell heavily to the floor with a grunt, just missing stabbing himself with the demon knife. The demon was gone. Not dead on the floor with its eyes burned out, just fucking gone. Sam hurried to Jack’s playpen and fell to his knees. “Are you okay? Shit, was that you?”

Jack turned bright yellow eyes on Sam, and Sam shivered. “I mean, you saved us — so thank you — but are you okay?”

Jack blinked and his eyes went back to their normal bluish-brown. He laughed, the contented little sound bubbling up in the room. Sam patted his foot and sighed. He had to get their gear packed up. The room wasn’t safe if they’d been tracked this far.

He texted Dean to get his ass back from the bar and started packing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam is probably making a lot of mistakes with how he is taking care of Jack. Let’s just say that Jack is tougher than your average newborn. I wouldn’t recommend any of this fic as a manual for baby care techniques!
> 
> Thanks for your kudos and subscriptions! Please leave a comment if you have any thoughts or concrit to share. I am glad that you are enjoying this story.

Dean rushed into the room, his eyes sweeping over the signs of a fight. “Jesus! What happened?”

Sam put both his palms on Dean’s shoulders, hoping that would ground and reassure him. He hadn’t seen Dean this freaked out in a long time. “We’re okay, but we gotta go. Demons.”

“Tracked us here? Oh, awesome. It’s not like they’re going to stop coming after us, either, not with Lucy Junior riding with us.” Dean looked around the room. “Where’s the meat suit?”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you. Jack, um…”

Dean’s eyes hardened. “You’re meaning to tell me that a three-day-old baby saved your ass?”

Great. Sam knew this was how Dean would react. “You’ve got to understand that Jack isn’t just a baby.”

“Multidimensional colored wavelengths,” he said in a rough voice. “I know.”

Jack started to fuss. His cries broke through the brothers’ argument, and Sam, like the well-trained human he had become, went immediately to the baby’s bedside and picked him up. He felt warm and nice against Sam’s side, and his little hand waved in the air. He was pretty pleased with himself, Sam realized.

“He saved me, Dean. He killed that demon and zapped him out of existence before I could even move.”

Dean’s expression as he looked down at Jack was unreadable. “You gotta watch yourself, Sam. You’re getting too attached.”

“Too attached? It’s like you don’t even give a shit!”

Dean zipped his duffel bag violently closed. “You are not the one who is allowed to tell me that I don’t give a shit. I’ll be in the truck.” Dean shoved his way past his brother as he went out the door.

Damn, Sam hadn’t handled that in the right way at all. Dean’s usual coping method consisted of a thin layer of pretending to be okay over a whole river of grief and pain. He thought about Cas, and Mom.

In the car, Sam leaned over Jack, buckling him in. After his display of power in the motel room, Sam suspected that Jack could handle a car crash, but he couldn’t be sure.

“There’s something I have to ask you, and you might not understand me, but I think you do.” Sam felt like he was going insane, having a serious conversation with a baby and expecting the baby to get it. Jack just stared up at him. “Can you keep them from tracking us? Demons, angels, the whole gang? It seems like you have the juice, I just don’t know whether I can get through to you.”

Jack simply nodded, then looked expectantly at Sam. “You think you can do it? Awesome. Gonna have to take your word for it.” Sam patted Jack’s leg and went around to the driver’s seat.

He pulled out after Dean, yawning as they made their way back to the highway.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. They weren’t bothered again. Sometimes Jack slept, and sometimes he screamed like he was being stabbed. The parenting book Sam had swiped from Cas’s room back at the lake house reassured him that this was normal baby behavior, except for the electrical side effects and the rumbling shock waves. On nights like that, Sam found that the best thing to do was to drive. Jack cried for ten or fifteen minutes, but then the purr of the Impala and the noises of the road put him to sleep.

Finally, at the end of day four, the Impala and Cas’s truck pulled into the bunker’s driveway. Sam had never been gladder to see the tower silhouetted against a cloudy sky.

They drove the Impala and the truck into the garage. Sam threw some baby stuff into his duffel and Dean carried the playpen.

Sam looked down at Jack, who was awake in his car seat but quiet and peaceful. He sucked on his fingers like a normal baby. Sam was beginning to understand some of Jack’s behavior, and he knew that meant the baby was getting hungry.

When they found their way downstairs, they passed the wall that Dean had blown all to hell when Ketch had tried to suffocate them. Dean kicked at a loose piece of concrete on the floor. They were going to have to clean that up eventually.

Dean went to bed first, taking a bottle of whiskey with him. Sam fed and changed the baby and lay him down gently in his playpen.

Sam slept dreamlessly until Jack started to make noise. Glancing at his phone, Sam saw that it was about five o’clock in the morning. Not too bad.

When he got up to check on Jack, he saw something that almost made him fall back on the bed. In the playpen was a naked toddler. “Hi, Jack.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mainly domestic not-quite-fluff, but the plot does advance.

“Hi Sam!”

Sam went over to pick up the little boy and get him out of the playpen. The outgrown baby clothes and diaper were on the floor of the playpen. Sam swallowed his amazement. “Are you hungry?”

”Yes!” Sam took a quick look in his mouth. A full set of baby teeth meant solid food, he assumed. Jack giggled and put his tiny hand over Sam’s.

“Oh man, we are gonna have to get you some clothes. And probably some diapers. Cas bought like a thousand but they’re tiny.”

“Castiel?” Jack asked in a high, sweet voice. “Father?”

Sam let out a giant sigh and lifted Jack into his lap. He wasn’t sure how much Jack’s mind had developed with his magical growth spurt. He didn’t want to upset the kid. He thought Cas was his father? “He’s not here right now, Jack.”

Jack seemed to accept the answer. “Hungry,” he reminded Sam. Sam couldn’t find anything to cover him up with, let alone a diaper big enough. He wondered if Jack was big enough to potty train and whether that was even necessary. Finally, he found an old T-shirt of Dean’s and put it on the baby like a dress. He Velcro’d two diapers together and hoped that would catch any pee that came out. The T-shirt pooled on the ground but it was better than letting the kid go around naked.

“Gonna have to go to Walmart today,” Sam said with a lack of enthusiasm. “Let’s go get you something to eat.”

”Okay,” said Jack. He looked up at Sam with trusting hazel eyes. They were about the same color as his own, Sam noticed. He hoisted Jack on his hip and headed for the kitchen.

“Whoa,” said Dean, stopping short of refilling his coffee. “What happened?”

“You tell me.”

“Hi Dean!” said Jack brightly.

“Um, hi.” Dean floundered. “Listen, man, can I talk to you?”

“Shoot.” Sam found a mushy banana and broke it up into pieces. Jack carefully picked up a chunk and put it in his mouth. Pleased with the taste, he tried another.

“What are we going to do with the kid, anyway?”

“Take care of him. Keep him out of trouble.”

“I have a feeling that this kid is going to breed his own kind of trouble. What kinds of powers do you think he has besides instant smiting?”

Bemused, Sam looked down at Jack, who was splattering the banana with smacks of his chubby little hands. “I guess we’ll just have to see. Clearly, he’s developing fast.”

Jack’s eating tapered off, but he kept playing with the banana. Sam took a wet paper towel and started to clean the baby and the table. “I’m gonna have to go on a supply run today. Jack needs some clothes. I don’t think he’ll fit in that car seat anymore, either.”

“Oh no, I’m not babysitting. Forget it.”

“Just for a couple hours?”

“I said no, Sam. He’s your project.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do with him then?”

Dean gave Sam a mean laugh. “Just stick him in the back seat. I bet that kid is tougher than you are.”

Sam and Dean stood facing each other in the kitchen, neither willing to budge. Jack didn’t weigh in.

“Fine,” Dean said gruffly, “Put him in the playpen. I’ll let him watch some cartoons on my laptop. That’ll keep him quiet.”

Sam left Dean with trepidation. He gathered his keys, wallet, and the best credit card he had left.

When Sam returned with a back seat full of essentials, plus some educational toys and books, he found Dean lying on the bed with his legs crossed, farting around on his phone. Dean’s laptop was sitting on the floor outside the playpen, and Jack was fixated on Looney Tunes.

“Did you guys have fun?” Sam said with a hint of sarcasm. Dean grunted in response. “Thanks, I guess.”

He plunked the Walmart bags and the boxes of diapers down on the floor. Sam had totally guessed at the sizes for diapers and clothes and hoped he’d gotten close enough.

He ripped the diapers open and spread out a towel on his bed. Picking Jack up, Sam was disgusted. “Dean, he peed all over himself.”

“I told you he was your project. You clean him up.”

Annoyed, Sam cleaned Jack up and tried to figure out what to do with the wet playpen. He ended up wiping it down with some baby wipes for the moment. When Jack was clean and dressed in a festive dinosaur-print shirt and pants, Sam sat on the end of the bed, feeling exhausted. “What are we gonna do with him now?”

“He likes TV.”

“We’ve got to give him more experiences than watching TV.” Sam pulled a board book out of a Walmart bag. “Pick up your laptop and I’ll read to him.”

Jack shrieked when Dean closed the laptop. “Oh, great. Leave him alone with you for two hours and you create a screen time monster.”

“It’s not the end of the world, Sam. You like TV and you didn’t grow up to be a total moron.”

Fortunately, the baby calmed down when Sam put him in his lap. As Sam pointed out the brightly colored pictures to a fascinated Jack, Dean wandered out of the room. Sam heard pots and pans clattering in the kitchen, so hopefully, Dean was fixing lunch.

Suddenly the little boy cried out, his hands clapping over his ears. Bright yellow veins of light broke out on his neck. The lights went out, raining glass all over the bed and all over the floor. “Jack!” Sam shielded the baby’s head from the falling glass. “It’s okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you!”

The baby squealed in real agony. Sam clamped his arms tightly around him. Just as suddenly, it stopped. Breathing heavily, Jack kept his death grip on Sam.

The room was pitch black. Sam reached into his pocket for his cell phone. Turning on the flashlight, he surveyed the baby for injuries. Jack was fine, but Sam felt shards of glass sticking out of his own scalp. Fuck, that hurt.

“Sammy!” Dean came running, phone flashlight held high. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Something spooked him,” said Sam, breathing hard. “The lights all shattered and he started screaming.”

“Lights are out in the whole place,” Dean confirmed. He shone his flashlight at Sam. “Whoa, you have all kinds of glass in your hair.”

“Yeah. Some of it’s in my scalp I think.”

Dean checked the playpen and found it to be glass-free. “Let me take the little monster and put him in the playpen. Then we can deal with your head.”

Sam let Dean do his big-brother thing, pulling tiny shards of glass out of Sam’s head with tweezers. Working together, they were able to get the floors swept enough for the bunker to be habitable. Sam left a flashlight on in his room so Jack wouldn’t be left alone in the dark.

It was only two o’clock in the afternoon, but the bunker was pitch black. Not even the emergency lights were on. Dean crawled around in the electrical room, looking for some way to get the power back on. Sam held the baby and the flashlight.

“Shit, man, I give up. Let’s go out and get some food. Maybe then I can think straight.” Dean rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t suppose you can ask the kid to fix it.”

Sam laughed. “That’s the stupidest idea I’ve heard all day… Oh.” The electrical room came back to life, red dials and switches humming. “I won’t ask how you did that. But thanks, buddy.” Jack kicked his feet and laughed.

They still had to replace the light bulbs in one entire section of the bunker, so they took a trip to Home Depot. Dean took a cart and headed straight for the light bulb aisle. Sam pushed Jack in another cart. He picked up a night light and a small home security camera, the kind that you could monitor from your phone. The bunker’s walls were thick, and Sam didn’t want to miss any cries. Not with the kind of damage the kid could do when he got worked up.

And what had happened that had frightened Jack so badly? Sam felt completely at a loss. He wished there were a nephilim care manual in the library, something like Cas’s baby book. Maybe they did have something that could help. He would have to look later.

As they paid for their stuff at the self-checkout, (the credit cards were getting a workout, it was time to commit some more identity fraud) Jack arched his back and tried to wiggle out of the baby seat.

“Down,” the kid insisted.

“We’re almost done,” Sam soothed.

Jack started to cry. The air shivered. Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Jesus Christ, Sam, just give the kid what he wants before he brings the roof down!”

Sam couldn’t argue with that logic. He pulled Jack out of the cart. Cautiously, he put Jack’s feet on the floor, holding tight to his hands. Jack took a few tentative steps, and then he was off and running toward the exit. Sam had to scoop him up before he dragged them across the road and into the parking lot.

“Put some shoes on that poor baby!” an elderly woman scolded on her way past. Shoes. Yet another thing to buy. It hadn’t occurred to Sam that Jack might be walking soon. Operation Babyproof the Bunker had just become priority number one.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all enjoying the story so far! This story started with an idle musing while I was rewatching Season 12. Hopefully this chapter will give some insight into Dean treating Jack like a disease.

Three days later, Sam and Dean had just finished fixing the wall that Dean had blown up when Ketch locked the place down. Sam cleaned up chunks of concrete and masonry, sweeping them into a dustpan. The bunker took a lot of abuse. It seemed like they were always having to fix walls or buy new furniture or clean up dead bodies. It was no life for a little kid, Sam thought with a pang of sadness.

Sam had tried keeping Jack in the playpen while they worked, but now he could climb right out again. He ended up putting Jack on the floor with his tablet and letting him watch Looney Tunes. Educational programming had been roundly rejected, to Dean’s smug satisfaction.

Thankfully, with Jack’s developmental age came much better sleeping habits. He could put Jack down at nine o’clock and be fairly certain that he wouldn’t wake before seven. He took two naps and seemed to be happy and content. Sam breathed a huge sigh of relief. Finally, something was looking up for their little family.

“I’m getting stir crazy,” Dean admitted, pushing the dust mop across the floor. “I need to get out and kill something.”

Sam chuckled as he pulled Jack into his lap. “That sounds more like you.”

“More like me? Since when have I been _not_ like me?”

“Since… you know. Since Cas and Mom…”

Dean turned bright red. “Damn it, Sam. Do we have to talk about this?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, “I think we do.” His heart was pounding fast. He wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing, but watching his brother shrivel up inside was incredibly painful. He had to let it out somehow.

“Fine. Just put the little monster to bed first. I don’t know how much he understands; it’s creepy.”

“Okay. After he goes to bed.”

Dean retired to the chess table on the landing with a glass of whiskey. That had become one of his favorite places to get away from Jack, who hadn’t yet learned to climb stairs. Sam lowered his head and sniffed Jack’s hair. The baby could use another bath but it could wait till tomorrow. The warmth of his little head made Sam smile.

Dean was right, he was getting too attached. Protecting Jack had become second nature. Sam could admit to himself that he had come to love this otherworldly child. He hugged Jack and let his hair fall down over the baby’s head.

Jack giggled. “Hair,” he said, taking a healthy handful and pulling hard.

Sam winced. “Okay, buddy, we don’t pull hair. That’s an ouch.”

Jack yanked one more time and then let go. He leaned back against Sam and yawned. 

“Are you sleepy? It’s almost bedtime.”

Jack turned around in Sam’s lap and wrapped his arms tight around his middle. Sam knew what Dean would say, but he didn’t care.

“Father?”

“No, I’m just Sam.” He put Jack down on the floor, patting his back. “Bedtime.”

Jack followed Sam into the bathroom to have his teeth brushed and his hands and face washed. Jack liked to look at himself in the mirror while Sam was brushing his teeth. They went to Sam’s room, where the crib had finally been set up. Jack was trying to learn how to climb up on the bed and made quite an effort. Sam changed him into clean pajamas, read him a story, and tucked him in.

Watching the nephilim fall into contented, trusting sleep was awesome. Keeping this kid safe was the most amazing thing he’d ever done. And Sam knew it could all be over in a heartbeat. Some other supernatural force — angels or demons — would eventually track him down. It would come down to blood and fear. And yet he kept trying to protect this kid. Sam turned out the light, leaving the nightlight on and setting up the camera monitor. He sneaked out the door and closed it quietly behind him.

Dean came down from his hideout when he saw that Sam was alone. “C’mon Sammy, drink with me. You look like you need a few.”

Sam followed Dean into the kitchen, where Cheerios were scattered across the table. Dean swept them off with his hands, a sure sign that he was off-kilter because normally he would make Sam go get the broom.

Dean poured two generous glasses and slid one over to his brother. “You said you wanted to talk. Hit me.”

Sam swallowed half of the glass and hoped for courage. “I’m worried about you.”

“I think I’m handling things okay,” Dean objected. “I haven’t busted up the library, I haven’t gone on a bender, I haven’t gone out to pick up chicks. I’ve been here with you and that little monster.”

“His name is Jack.”

“I don’t think you get it. That kid could snap his fingers and disintegrate us. He could kill us in our sleep just by thinking about it. And you treat him like some little dress-up doll and carry him around everywhere. Get a clue, Sam!” Dean clenched his hand around the whiskey glass. “You of all people should be scared of Lucifer’s kid. You were stuck in the cage with him and I bet those aren’t good memories. He probably killed Mom, and I bet he enjoyed it.”

“Jack calls Cas his father,” Sam said quietly. At the mention of Cas’s name, Dean gritted his teeth. Sam could see his jaw working. “Dean, he isn’t evil. He’s just a kid. Not to mention he saved my life. His powers are big and scary, but I think that if we love him, everything will be okay.”

“Don’t give me that crap.”

“So what, then? Do we start treating _him_ like crap to punish him for something he had no control over? Do we hand him over to the demons? How about the angels? They both want to use him. I think we should keep him off the field. Keep him with us, until he’s mature enough to know the right thing to do.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Dean put his face in his hands. “When you look at him, you don’t see… You don’t see Cas.”

Sam wanted to reach out and touch his brother, but he sat on his own side of the table and waited.

When Dean lifted his face from his clenched hands, his eyes were shining and red. “Every time I look at that kid, Cas is all I can see. The way he walks, the way he looks at you with that funny little head tilt. It’s too much, Sam. I can’t do it.”

“You can do it because Cas wanted you to,” Sam said quietly. “It was the one thing he really wanted to do and he never got the chance. Do something that would make Cas proud of you.”

Dean got up from the kitchen table and stalked out, crunching cereal under his boots. Sam cursed at himself. He’d gone too far. He just wanted his brother to face up to his feelings and at least admit why he couldn’t be around Jack. Sam poured himself another drink and went to the library. It might be a long time before he got to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the dialogue in this chapter is adapted from Season 13, Episode 2.

“Sam!” a little voice called. When Sam didn’t answer right away, a small hand shook his shoulder. “Wake up!”

Sam’s tired eyes blinked open. Jack had grown again. He looked like he was about seven, with floppy blondish-brown hair.

“I outgrew my clothes again,” the little boy said in a sheepish voice.

Sam yawned. “That’s okay, buddy. We’ll get you some more that fit.”

“There’s somebody coming,” Jack said, climbing up on the bed next to Sam. “I think I called them, but I don’t know how.”

Sam startled the rest of the way awake. “Is this a good somebody or a bad somebody?”

Jack sat cross-legged next to Sam, looking thoughtful. “I can’t tell. It’s like there’s a blank space.”

“How far away is this person?”

“He’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

Sam grabbed a T-shirt and pulled it over Jack’s head. “You stay here. I’m going to check it out.”

The bunker was quiet, without the sounds of Led Zeppelin coming out from under Dean’s door or the smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen. Sam knocked on Dean’s door with no answer. He opened the door and was greeted by a drawn handgun. “It’s me, dumbass.”

“Don’t sneak up on me,” Dean warned, putting the safety on and tucking the gun back under his pillow. “What do you want?”

”Jack says there’s someone coming, and he can’t tell whether it’s someone good or someone bad. Oh, plus, he grew some more.”

“Fabulous.” Dean ran a hand through his bed head and pulled on jeans and a flannel. The two of them made their way into the war room, guns cocked.

Sam was startled when his phone rang in the pocket of his pajama pants. “Who is this?”

“It’s Donatello. Open up, weird stuff has been happening.”

“Donatello,” Sam said with relief. Dean tucked his gun back in his waistband. Sam went upstairs to let him in. The short and stocky prophet stood in the doorway, graying hair wild with the wind.

“Have you guys gotten wind of anything weird?” Donatello babbled nervously all the way down the stairs. “A couple days ago I felt a huge power surge. It didn’t feel like God, but it didn’t feel malicious. It was gigantic. Do you guys know anything about it?”

“Hi,” said Jack, standing in the middle of the war room with his borrowed T-shirt all the way down to the floor.

“Jack, I told you to stay in the bedroom!” Sam said helplessly.

“It was you,” said Donatello, an expression of surprise on his round face. It was pretty hard to surprise a Prophet.

Dean rolled his eyes. “This is Jack. He’s a nephilim.”

“The offspring of an angel and a human,” Donatello was awed.

“Archangel, in this case. Lucifer.” Dean sounded disgusted.

Donatello stepped toward Jack. “Your power doesn’t feel like his at all. He’s dark and corrupted, and you…”

Dean interrupted. “Don’t get too far ahead of yourself. We’re still not sure about him.”

“Dean,” Sam warned. “For God’s sake, Jack is standing right here.”

“It’s okay, Sam. I don’t understand it either. All I know is that my mother is in Heaven and my father’s not here.” Jack frowned.

“Pretty good thing he’s not here,” Dean grunted.

“No, I mean Castiel. My real father.”

Dean closed his eyes. “Listen, kid, Cas was not your father.”

“I chose him. Before I was born. Why isn’t he here?”

Sam put his hands on Jack’s little shoulders. “Let’s have some breakfast. I bet Dean will make scrambled eggs.” Jack looked excited. The one time he had had scrambled eggs, he’d loved them.

“Yeah, okay. Donatello, you want some?”

“Sure. I drove all night and I’m starving.”

Sam put the coffee on while Jack and Donatello sat at the table facing each other. Jack kept looking closely at Donatello like he was a bug under a microscope. “Why are you different? I can’t figure out why you’re different.”

“I don’t have a soul,” the prophet replied cheerfully enough. He accepted a cup of black coffee from Sam.

“Wow.” Jack reached a hand toward him. A small wave of power emanated from Jack’s palm and into Donatello’s shoulder. “You really don’t have a soul. How did that happen?”

“Amara sucked it out. The Darkness, God’s sister.”

“Who’s God?” Jack asked, perplexed. Donatello just gawked at him. “Is he coming here too?”

Dean scraped the eggs into the center of the pan. “Big man upstairs checked out before you were born, kiddo. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the most powerful thing in the universe at this point.”

“Dean,” Sam said urgently.

“I tried to talk him out of keeping this kid as a pet, but he kept right on doing it.”

“I’m not a pet. I’m a kid.”

Sam spoke up. “Yes, you’re our kid. We love you.”

Dean snorted through his nose and plated Jack’s eggs. “I’d like you a whole lot more if you could keep your food on your plate instead of getting it everywhere like a wild animal.”

After breakfast, Sam set Jack up in the library with the tablet and some cartoons. “The grown-ups need to talk, but you can come get me if you need to.” Sam bent down and kissed the top of Jack’s head while Dean wasn’t looking.

In the kitchen, Sam sat down with a sigh. “I don’t really know what to do. Jack’s more powerful than I know how to handle. And we can’t really be sure that he doesn’t have some Lucifer inside him,” Sam admitted. Dean smirked. “Shut up, jerk. Anyway, we don’t know how much influence Kelly and Lucifer had on his DNA. Or how much influence his connection with Cas had.”

“You mean the connection that got Cas killed?” Dean growled.

Donatello finished his coffee. “Ah, the nature versus nurture conundrum.” Dean snorted. “Speaking not as a prophet, but as a scientist, I don’t think teaching him is in the cards. It’s like asking a lion not to be a lion.”

Sam was furious. “He’s human. And he’s an angel. And I don’t necessarily know what that means for us, but I do know that I am going to take care of him, no matter what. And you can go screw yourself, Dean.”

“Fine.” Dean abruptly left the room.

“I should go. I feel like you all have some issues that need to be worked out.” Donatello started to move toward the door.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Sam felt defeated. “Listen, we’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, if you hear anything, can you tell us? We’re kind of laying low here.”

Donatello clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Any time, Sam. Just remember that I don’t have any more souls to lose.”

Sam walked Donatello out to the driveway and watched his car pull out onto the dusty road. He had a long way to go.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is being a real jackass in this story. Hopefully his behavior is understandable and that he will come around?

“I’m bored,” Jack complained. The little boy was lying on the couch with his head upside-down, making his hair flop everywhere.

“Find something to do with that kid,” Dean threatened. He was taking notes on _A Treatise on the Mystic Properties of Angels_, and it was rough going.

Sam closed his laptop and looked over at Jack. “Let’s go outside. Throw the ball around or something.”

Jack wiggled around and leapt to his feet. “Have I been outside?”

“When you were little. Go put your shoes on.” Jack scampered away.

“Are you sure taking him outside is a good idea? He can mess around in the gym all he wants.”

Sam sighed. “Jack needs fresh air.”

“So what, I need fresh air too.”

“So you should come outside with us.”

“No way. I’m not playing catch with Satan spawn.”

“You have to stop talking about him like that.”

Dean just turned the page of his book and went back to pointedly ignoring Sam, scratching at his notepad with the stub of a pencil.

Sam had looked up a spell to extend the bunker’s warding to the scrubby patch of weeds that passed for a backyard. He squeezed a drop of blood into a metal bowl, dropped a match inside, and let the smoke billow up toward the sky. “Here goes nothing,” he muttered.

“Why did you put blood in there?” Jack asked.

“It’s a spell. It’s like a binding agent for the magic. Cas explained it to me once.”

Jack was thoughtful. “Nobody talks about Castiel. Why? Wasn’t he your friend?”

Sam sighed. So many questions. “Best friend. He was even closer to Dean.”

“Dean is always mad at me because he thinks I killed Castiel. But I didn’t kill him, did I?”

The kid sounded so sad, it was all Sam could do to keep his composure. Sam hugged Jack tightly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Cas died to save you, that’s different.”

“But if I hadn’t been born, he’d still be alive.”

Sam couldn’t lie to Jack. “Maybe not, but we lead really dangerous lives. Even for angels.” Sam held the kid for a few more minutes and then ruffled Jack’s hair. “C’mon, let’s play.”

Jack quickly caught on to the game. Giggling, he jumped up to catch the ball in the ancient Men of Letters-era glove. “Go long,” Sam called to him. Jack crashed through the bushes.

Suddenly, bright white streaks filled the air. Oh, shit. The kid had tripped the wards. Sam should have known this was a bad idea. “Come back! Hurry!”

Panicked, Jack ran back to Sam. “What’s going on?” Then Jack let out a piercing scream and clapped his hands over his ears. Yellow veins stood out on his face and neck. The angels advanced on them, all dressed in pressed suits and holding gleaming blades. Sam stood over Jack, holding an angel blade of his own.

“Sam Winchester,” the lead angel smirked. She wore fashionable dark-rimmed glasses and a light gray suit. “Thanks for breaking your own wards, by the way. The boy belongs with us.”

“Who are they?” Jack asked in a muffled voice, cowering on the ground.

“We’re angels, Jack. We’re here to save you. These Winchesters can’t protect you.”

“Go away,” said Jack, “I don’t want you here.” The angels moved forward. Sam pulled Jack tight against him. “I said go away!” Yellow-orange rings erupted from Jack’s hands. The angels tried to stand their ground, but Jack’s power put them in agony. One by one, they burned up and blew away on the wind.

“Jesus,” Sam said, dropping to his knees. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“I killed angels,” Jack said slowly, staring down at his hands. “I don’t know how I did it. I just wanted them to go away. If I killed angels, does that make me bad?”

Sam tilted Jack’s chin upward. “They were trying to hurt us. You did the right thing.” Jack squeezed his eyes shut tight and a tear ran out. “Hey, buddy. You’re okay. I’m not mad.” Sam rubbed Jack’s shoulder.

Jack stepped forward and buried his face. “Dean is going to be mad,” Jack hiccuped into his stomach.

“You let me worry about Dean. Listen, let’s go inside. You need a shower.” Jack snuffled and rubbed his face.

Jack was right. Dean was furious, but not with Jack for once. Sam sent Jack to clean his room to get away from what would surely turn into a shouting match.

“And you didn’t even call me? What the hell, Sam!”

“It happened so fast. You wouldn’t have been able to get up there in time. Besides, Jack handled it.”

“Great, now I have to rely on a jumped-up demon kid for protection.”

“Dean!” Sam cut him off. “That kind of talk has to stop! Jack is already confused enough.”

“Somebody’s got to keep a level head around here, and clearly it isn’t you.”

Sam stepped right into Dean’s space as if he were going to punch him. Punching him would feel pretty damned good. “If you’re not going to be civil to the kid, just stop talking to him and about him. Let me handle him.”

”Fine. You win. I’m going out.” Dean stomped off toward the garage. Sam let out a huge breath and tried to collect himself. Something had to change.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed a lack of Demon Colonel Sanders (aka Asmodeus) in this fic. One of the bonuses of writing AUs is that you can get rid of characters you can’t stand! Hooray!
> 
> We’ve almost reached the conclusion of this little story. Hope you are enjoying it! I would love to hear your thoughts or constructive criticism!
> 
> Edited this chapter to provide better Lego continuity. (perils of not having a beta ;) )

Jack was subdued after the incident with the angels. He played with the toys Sam had gotten at the thrift store and listened while Sam read him stories. (Jack could read on his own, but he enjoyed having Sam sit with him anyway.) He sometimes watched Scooby-Doo with Dean, but Dean didn’t talk to the kid while it was on. Sam’s heart hurt seeing Jack so defeated. He just kept giving the kid all the attention and affection he needed, hoping that would be enough.

Sam felt like he was driving without a map when it came to being a surrogate dad. His own father loved him, but they hadn’t gotten along since Sam was old enough to question his decisions. Dean had always been there, though. Dean took over a lot of the things that Dad should have done for him. Sam had so many good memories of Dean taking care of him, making him dinner, teaching him how to swim, helping him with his homework until Sam blew past Dean in that respect and it became the other way around.

As the weeks went by, Dean started to act more like himself. Sam heard more loud music coming out of his room, and he started looking for hunts again. Sam still caught him staring off into space sometimes. The scar tissue hadn’t yet filled in.

Three weeks after Jack grew up, Dean and Sam sat in the library with their research and a few beers. “Do you think we’ll ever be able to get the portal open so we can go after Mom?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know. I have a feeling Jack could do it, but I don’t want to take the risk. He’s just a kid.”

Dean made a “hmph” noise and drained the rest of his beer. He looked over to the war room table, where Jack sat peacefully playing with Legos. “I have to admit it’s a lot easier having him around than it was a couple of weeks ago. I’m getting used to him.”

Sam grinned. “You like him, you just don’t want to admit it.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Dean shrugged. “Listen up, I think I found a hunt.” He pushed his laptop back so Sam could see the screen. “People disappearing from a cemetery in broad daylight. Sounds like our kind of deal.”

Sam put his elbows on the table. “I dunno, Dean. I don’t think it’s a good idea to take Jack on a hunt.”

“Who said anything about taking Jack? I can handle this one alone.”

“Are you sure? It could be a wraith or a ghoul. You know what happened the last time you tried to handle a wraith alone.”

“Don’t worry about me, you’ve got enough on your plate.” Dean peeled the label off his beer. “Want another one?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Dean got up from the table and headed into the kitchen.

“Sam?” said Jack, suddenly standing at his elbow.

“Jack! You startled me.” The kid had quiet feet, yet another way in which he was like Cas. “What’s up, buddy?”

“I want you to come see my Legos.”

Sam smiled and let himself be led to the other table. “I’ll come and play when Dean and I have finished our work.”

Dean came back into the library looking haunted. He clunked a beer bottle down on the table and left the room carrying his own.

“What’s wrong with Dean?”

Sam winced. “He’s sad. Lonely too. He misses Cas.”

“I miss him too.”

“Yeah, me too. He was a great guy. Angel, I mean. Well, sometimes he was a guy, there was a time when he lost his grace but he got it back.”

“I didn’t know you could lose your grace.” Jack looked alarmed. Since Dean and Sam didn’t have that much experience with angelology, they had handed Jack a book from the library and told him to ask if he had any questions. Sam knew it was a cop-out, but it was the best they could do after Jack had exhausted their own knowledge.

“Somebody stole Cas’s grace.” Sam really didn’t want to explain Metatron, because that led to Dean being a demon. Jack was confused enough about angels and demons, he didn’t have to associate Dean with them.

“I’m sad for Dean.” Sam hugged Jack around the waist. “Do you think I could do anything to make him feel better? Last time you were sad, I drew you a picture.”

The angelic and human sides of Jack were so intertwined, Sam was always touched when Jack acted like a regular seven-year-old kid. “I dunno. I think he just needs more time.”

“Can you come play Legos now?”

Sam smiled and followed Jack to the war room. On the map of the world, he had built an impressive castle complete with a drawbridge. Sam didn’t recognize some of the pieces. Apparently, when Jack couldn’t find the Lego piece he wanted, he created one. That was handy but scary.

Jack went to bed at nine, in his own room across the hall from Sam’s. Sam still put the baby monitor camera on, unwilling to give up the habit. Jack was only six weeks old, but it felt like he had been with them forever.

Sam waited up for Dean for a while, but around midnight he realized that Dean wasn’t coming out of his room. Dean had left his bedroom door open a crack, and Sam peered in. Dean was lying awake in the dark. “Good night,” he said quietly. Dean just rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head.

Sam awakened to banging on his door. He immediately thought something was wrong with Jack, and he jumped out of bed and nearly fell on his face. He pulled the door open to find a wild-eyed Dean. “You’re not gonna believe this. I just got a phone call. I think it was Cas.”

“Cas?” Sam thought he might be dreaming. “Are you sure it was Cas?”

Dean looked desperate. “It sure sounded like Cas. He said he was in New Hampshire. How the hell did he end up in New Hampshire?”

Sam took a deep breath. “Are you sure it’s not a shifter or something? Their voices can be really convincing.”

“No, I can’t be sure.” Dean bent over, halfway hyperventilating. “Sammy, I have to go see if it’s really him.”

“You can’t go by yourself. You’re a frigging mess.”

“Okay. Come with me, bring the kid. Road trip.”

Dean went back to his room to change. It was four o’clock in the morning, too early to wake Jack but Sam knew that Dean would insist on going right away. Sam ended up carrying a sleeping Jack to the car. He opened his eyes a little bit when they got to the garage, but he closed his eyes again and slumped into his booster seat when Sam put him in the car.

“C’mon, Sammy, we gotta go,” Dean begged.

Sam put a bag with Jack’s toys and books in the back seat. He remembered all too well about the drudgery of road trips when you weren’t old enough to drive. “Fine, but I’m driving. You are going out of your head.”

It was a sign of how much of an altered state Dean was in that he allowed Sam to take the keys without a fight. Dean sat rigidly in the front seat, leaning forward. “How long till we get to New Hampshire?”

Sam tapped the directions into his phone. “24 hours. If we drive straight through, we can be there by this time tomorrow.”

“We’re going to have to take more stops because of the kid.”

Sam laughed. “You’re probably right. He’s going to need real food, too, not just chili dogs from the Gas’n’Sip.”

They drove up through the endless farm fields of Nebraska and into Iowa. They ran into construction on I-80, and Dean fidgeted and complained like a kid. Jack sat quietly in the back seat, taking everything in. Everything was a new experience for Jack.

Dean didn’t settle down when it was his turn to drive. His nervous energy channeled itself into banging on the steering wheel in time with his music and driving too fast.

“You don’t need to go 85,” Sam pointed out, looking up from his phone.

Dean threw him a look and adjusted the cheap sunglasses he had bought at a truck stop in Iowa. “Baby needs the cobwebs blown out.”

Sam turned his head to see what Jack was up to in the back seat. He was hunched over a leather-covered book with thin paper and tiny print. “You gave him the Bible?”

“Figured he needed to know.”

“I don’t think that’s helpful.”

“This book is really good. Is this stuff true?” Jack asked.

Dean’s laugh had an edge to it. “You could say so.”

“Well, actually, the timeline is off. The Earth is billions of years old,” Sam said. “The Bible version claims that the Earth is only six thousand—“

“But all this stuff with Lucifer and the archangels is true?” Jack cocked his head like Cas. Sam was happy that Dean wasn’t looking in the rearview mirror.

“Most of it.”

“Why isn’t Castiel in this book?”

Sam answered with a sad smile. “Cas wasn’t high-ranking enough to be written about. He was a soldier.”

Dean interrupted the conversation about Cas before it really got started. “Damn it! U2 is not classic rock!” He spun the dial, talking to himself about lame radio formats.

As the day wore on, Dean was getting even more manic. “I think you need to pull over next time there’s an exit,” Sam said cautiously.

“Why? I’m not tired.”

They zoomed around a bus, passing on the right. “Because you’re driving like you’re in Mario Kart. We have a kid in the car.”

“A kid who could just teleport us anywhere.”

“I hope you’re being facetious,” Sam frowned. “Don’t listen to him, Jack.”

“I wasn’t.” Except he totally was. “I’m hungry.”

“Eat your donut,” Dean told him.

“I already ate that. I’m starving,” Jack whined.

“Did you put him up to this?” Dean said gruffly. “Eat some of Sam’s beef jerky.”

“Dean, the kid is hungry.”

“Okay, okay. Let me find an exit.”

Sam sighed in relief. They were somewhere in New York State. New York had reliable rest stops on the Thruway at least. (Taking a toll road to save time wasn't in Dean's usual playbook, but Sam knew the reason for that.) They only had three hours to go before they reached New Hampshire. It was no wonder that Dean was going nuts, but Sam was glad it was his turn to drive the rest of the way.

Dean parked, and Sam made Jack put his shoes on. A supernatural being who could crush me like a bug, Sam thought wryly, Won’t wear his sneakers.

They ate anemic pasta with lukewarm sauce, but Jack was in heaven. He had sauce all over his face by the time he was finished. Dean had hardly touched his calzone. He kept checking his phone for a call from Cas.

“Maybe we can get a box for that calzone,” Sam said.

“I’m not hungry.” Dean hunched in on himself. Sam’s heart ached for his brother, so close to finding Cas or maybe dealing with some malevolent entity pretending to be Cas. He wondered what Dean would do if it really was Cas waiting for them.

Jack ran up to them with a stuffed animal covered in sequins. “Can I have this?”

“Looks like a stripper outfit,” Dean scoffed.

“What’s a stripper?”

“Dean!” Sam turned to Jack. He was running his finger down the back of the stuffed turtle, flipping the sequins from one side to another.

“Can I have it, please?”

“Sure. I’ll come pay for it.”

“You’re spoiling that kid,” Dean grumbled, picking at his calzone.

Sam had to admit to himself that he was buying the turtle partly because Jack wanted it, and partly because it would piss Dean off. “Kids should have what they want once in a while.”

“We never got what we wanted.”

“Yeah, and I’m not Dad.” Dean walked off at that.

New Hampshire couldn’t come fast enough for Sam. He desperately wanted to know if Cas was back, but he was also about to kill his brother for being such a jackass.

Jack skipped happily to the car with his sequined turtle. Dean huddled down in the passenger seat with his sunglasses down over his eyes and said he was going to sleep. Sam merged onto the highway, hoping that they would all find what they wanted in New Hampshire.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t remember a specific location for Cas’s return from the Empty, so I took creative license. This is the last chapter, I hope you’ve had a fun time reading this story. I had fun writing it. I haven’t put out 15,000 words in a week in quite a while, if ever.
> 
> This chapter got long, and I hope it will be satisfying. I may revisit these guys but I owe my Harry Potter readers some chapters first. Thanks for reading!

Sam was definitely getting tired, but he kept driving. He didn’t want his strung-out brother behind the wheel again today. They had taken the Mass Pike east to I-495, then headed north on Route 3. Quiet forests and suburbia flew by on either side as it began to rain. Dean sat forward in his seat, getting more agitated as they drew closer to their goal. Jack was passed out asleep in his booster seat with his sequined turtle making tracks on his face.

“What if it’s not Cas?” Dean asked, staring out the passenger side window into the woods. “What if we drove all this way and it’s a shifter, or a demon, or a revenant—“

“We’ll kill it and go home.”

Dean leaned his head on the window glass. His hand came up to trace the flow of the raindrops across the window. “You’re gonna have to do it. I don’t think I could kill anything that looks like Cas.”

Sam reached over and rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder, but Dean didn’t turn to face him.

“How far to go?” Sam asked.

Dean checked his phone. “Twenty minutes. Take the exit on Route 111. Nashua.”

It rained harder, and lightning plunged across the sky. Sam flicked the wipers on as fast as they would go. Dean dropped his head into his hands, breathing hard as he tried to calm down.

Sam took the exit, bouncing over the poorly paved road. Ordinarily Dean would bitch about the road conditions and worry about Baby’s undercarriage, but he sat quietly, tension emanating from his body.

“Turn left at the next light and then it’s two blocks down.”

Dean buried his head in his hands, as if he couldn’t bear to look. Sam parallel parked on the narrow street in front of a fried chicken place.

“Hey,” Sam said softly, “We’re here.”

Dean let out a huge rush of air. He stepped out of the car, tucking his hands in his pockets and leaning forward to keep his face out of the rain. The pay phone was there, but no one was standing nearby. Dean turned back to Sam with a gutted expression.

The door to the chicken place opened, shining with rain water and the reflection from a red neon chicken sign. A guy came out with slightly rounded shoulders, a trench coat, black Oxfords, and rumpled brown hair. “Dean,” said Sam urgently.

Dean looked up, and his entire face transformed. He stumbled toward maybe-Cas with his hands balled into fists. “Gotta check you,” he said breathlessly.

Maybe-Cas just pushed up the cuff of his trench coat and rolled up a white sleeve. Shaking, Dean used a small silver blade on his forearm. The blade didn’t make a dent. “That can’t hurt me, Dean.” Dean let the guy’s arm go and reached into his pocket for the holy water. He splashed it into maybe-Cas’s face. Cas just blinked at him.

“Oh my God, is it really you?” Dean moved like a man in a dream. Cas’s hand came up to settle on Dean’s shoulder. Dean reached up to cover Cas’s hand with his own.

“It’s really me,” Cas said gently.

Dean made a desperate noise. He buried his face in the space where Cas’s neck met his shoulder, clamping down tightly. A couple of passers-by with a black dog looked suspiciously at the pair who were hugging in the rain and blocking the sidewalk.

“Don’t you dare do that to me ever again.” Dean’s voice was muffled against Cas’s coat.

Cas brought his hand up slowly to settle on the back of Dean’s head. “I’ll try.”

In the back seat, Jack stirred. “Are we there yet?”

Sam smiled at Jack in the rear view mirror. “Yeah.”

“Is that Castiel?” Jack squeaked, struggling to unbuckle himself.

“Wait, Jack!” Sam called.

Jack stood awkwardly beside Dean. He reached out and touched Cas’s hand. Cas looked over to the side, and his eyes widened when he saw the little boy standing there.

“Jack,” said Cas with an expression of impossible relief. Sam wiped his eyes. This was getting to be too much. Dean stepped back from Cas, and Sam could see the tear tracks on his flushed face.

Jack threw his arms around Castiel’s waist. “Father,” he said happily. Cas hugged Jack close. “Sam and Dean said you were dead!”

“I was,” Cas said slowly, turning to look at Dean. Dean wiped hastily at his eyes. “I was in the Empty, where angels and demons go when they die. They’re supposed to sleep forever, but something woke me up. It’s a long story.”

Sam got his hug from Cas too, an altogether brisker affair than either Jack or Dean received, but Sam was totally fine with that. Sam was just happy to see him. 

“So we’re parked in front of a fried chicken place and it smells too damn good,” Dean laughed, though his voice was still shaky. “I am starving. Can we eat?”

“Do I like fried chicken?” Jack asked Sam, coming around to hold his hand.

“Haven’t had the chance to make you some.”

“It seems that the customers in this place have been pleased with their food,” said Cas, opening the door. “The owners have been kind to me today as I waited for you.”

The little family crowded into a booth, and Sam and Dean went up to the counter to order. “I think we should get the extra deluxe.”

“Dean, Cas doesn’t eat.”

“Yeah, well, I want leftovers for the trip.”

Sam made a gagging face. “No thank you. Get the deluxe. I am not riding all the way back to Kansas with the car smelling like chicken.”

At the table, Cas and Jack sat close together. Sam kept sneaking looks at them while they waited for their fried chicken feast to be prepared. Sam could see just how much the little boy resembled their friend — Dean was right about that.

“You’ve gotten big. I wasn’t sure how much you would have grown.” Cas smiled with tired eyes. “I always pictured you as a baby.”

“I was a baby. Sam and Dean took care of me. Well, mostly it was Sam. Dean doesn’t like me.”

Cas looked sadly at Dean’s back where he waited in line. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I promised your mother that I would be.”

“Food time,” said Dean in a hearty voice, interrupting their conversation. He set the laden tray down in the middle of the table. “Go get your own drinks.” He slid paper cups across to them.

As he fixed a small plate for Jack, Sam overheard Cas teaching the boy how to use the soda dispenser. “How does Cas know how to do that?”

Dean chuckled. “Working at the Gas’n’Sip. Back when he was human.”

Sam had never heard Dean talk about that before. His brother seemed to be opening up, shedding the darkness that had settled on his soul since Cas died. Sam felt warm inside.

“I tried three flavors, and then Castiel let me mix them together,” Jack said with pleasure. Sam looked disapprovingly at the angel, who had the grace to look embarrassed.

When they settled around the table for dinner, Jack and Dean were plastered up against either side of Cas, competing for space. Dean kept ostensibly complaining that the booth was too small but made no motion to get up and move.

Chewing on a French fry, Sam wondered how long it would take for Dean to admit his feelings to Cas. It was going to have to be sooner rather than later, or Sam might lose it from the subtext. He grinned over his coleslaw.

The three humans — or part-humans — expressed a wish to get a good night’s sleep before heading back to Kansas. They ended up at a scuzzy motel some five miles from downtown due to budget constraints. The sign advertised free Wi-Fi, and that was good enough for Sam. The place was on the edge of town, miles from anything but a fish and game club, a 7-11, and a dilapidated Burger King. A single traffic light flashed over the two-lane highway.

“He’s out like a light,” Sam smiled over Jack’s head at Cas.

“Let me carry him,” Cas offered.

Now that he had some help taking care of the kid, Sam realized that he didn’t really want it. He didn’t want to give up his special relationship with Jack now that his “real father” (whatever that meant for the boy) was back from the dead. Not that Sam wasn’t deeply grateful for Cas’s return, it just stung to have to share Jack with him.

They checked in, getting just one double room. It was decided that Jack would take the pullout bed since he had the youngest back and could sleep on anything. Cas, Dean, and Sam had to figure out the rest.

It was close to eleven by the time they got ready for bed. Sam discovered to his chagrin that he forgot Jack’s toothbrush. The kid was yawning, anyway, and was mostly asleep on the sofa before they could even pull it out. Sam covered Jack with a musty-smelling blanket and leaned over to kiss his forehead.

“Thank you, Sam,” said Cas quietly. He had asked for a laptop and settled himself in the side chair near Jack.

“Just glad I could help,” said Sam, pulling the covers up to his chin. “Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Sam.”

Sam collapsed quickly, a result of a day of driving and an emotional evening. He woke at about three having to use the bathroom. In the dark, only the glow of Cas’s laptop provided any illumination. To Sam’s surprise, the glow was emanating from Dean’s bed.

Cas sat up against the headboard, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He had taken his shoes and jackets off, but not his tie. Dean slept on his stomach at Cas’s side, curling his arm around Cas’s legs.

Sam came back from the bathroom full of questions, but he kept them to himself. Cas noticed him gaping.

“He was having nightmares,” he explained. I healed him once but it kept happening, so I thought it would be better if I were closer.” Dean mumbled something in his sleep, and Cas stopped to “listen.” “Go back to sleep, Sam.”

Sam settled down easier than he expected, making himself comfortable in the scratchy sheets.

Sam was the first one up in the morning. He decided he would skip his morning run and make up for it when they got home. For a long time, he just lay in bed looking at his family. Jack and Cas and Dean, all safe and all in one place. If Mom were there, it would have been perfect.

Sam decided to surprise them with donuts. Not his style, and he would probably get a whole-grain bagel, but it would make Jack and Dean happy. Even in this little town, there were like four donut shops. He gathered his keys and wallet, trying to be quiet.

“Sam, wait,” Cas said in a hushed voice. “I’ll come with you.”

Cas gently unwound Dean’s arm from around his legs. Dean just sighed and rolled over. They left a note for Dean so he wouldn’t freak out; hopefully he would see it before going ballistic. Sam and the angel got into the car and headed for the closest donut shop about three miles down the road.

“Where’s your mother?” Cas asked.

Sam sighed. “Right after Lucifer stabbed you… mom took those Enochian brass knuckles and wailed on him. It was pretty impressive.” He had to smile a bit. “But then he yanked her back through the portal, and it closed.”

It took a moment for Cas to reply. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

“Yeah. It’s been rough. With both you and Mom gone, Dean hasn’t been doing well.”

They pulled up to the drive-through and got three large coffees, donuts, and Sam’s bagel. Cas had the drink holder in his lap. “I’m going to be there for your brother. Jack too. I promise.”

“You better be.” Sam was only half-joking.

When they got back to the room, Dean was up and packing. “You brought coffee. You are my favorite person now.”

Sam chuckled. “Donuts are in the bag. Share them with Jack.”

When Cas came in, Dean stopped what he was doing and went over to talk to him in a quiet voice. Cas folded Dean into his arms, and Dean just closed his eyes.

Was that how they were going to be now? Sam fully approved, but he would have liked to know more so he could razz them about it. For right now, whatever understanding had come up between his brother and the angel was fragile, and Sam kept his mouth shut. Hopefully he would have years to embarrass them about it.

“Father,” Jack said, sitting up on the couch with his turtle in his lap. “You’re still here.”

“I’m staying,” Cas said. “Don’t worry.”

“Did you get donuts?” Jack saw the bag and pounced.

Sam watched his family fight over breakfast while Cas just sipped his coffee and watched them with a smile. Maybe Jack would be able to open the portal with a little more maturity and with Cas’s help. For now, Sam was content.


	11. PSA

Pssst.... I started a sequel to this story, it’s called Family Hunting Trip. Follow the new series below to be notified of future works. Enjoy!


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